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DISCOURSE 

PRONOUNCED -JUDY 30, 1844, , 



BEFORE THE 


PH1L0MATHENIAN SOCIETY 


.a*z* - 


MIDDLEBURY COLLEGE. 


By WILLIAM B. SPRAGUE, D.D. 

OF ALBANY. 





























DISCOURSE 


PRONOUNCED JULY 30, 1844, 


BEFORE THE 


PHILOMATHESIAN SOCIETY 


MIDDLEBURY COLLEGE, 



Bv WILLIAM B. SPRAGUE, D. D., 



N^V WAS" 


ALBANY: 




4~CB 

J73 


PRINTED BY C. VAN BENTHUYSEN AND CO 





DISCOURSE* 


In casting about for a topic with which to 
occupy this hour, no better principle of selec¬ 
tion has occurred to me, than is suggested by 
the familiar saying of the wise man-—“To 
every thing there is a season.” There are 
seasons in which it may be fitting to discourse 
for amusement, and upon topics adapted to 
secure that end. There are seasons in which 
one may indulge visions of fancy, and soar 
away, if he can, on the wings of an eagle. 
There are seasons for breaking a lance with 
an intellectual combatant, on questions which 
perhaps can never be decided—-seasons for 
those who have the taste and the talent, to go 
down into the deep places of metaphysics, or 
if you please, to linger in the cloudy regions 
of mysticism. But it is not upon any one of 


* Since this Discourse was delivered at Middlebury, it has been de- , 
livered, with some slight modification, before the Philermenian and 
United Brothers’ Societies of Brown University. 




4 


these seasons that you and I have fallen in 
our meeting this evening. You, young gen¬ 
tlemen of the society whom I have the honour 
to address, occupy a position toward which 
the heart of the patriot, the philanthropist, the 
Christian, turns with an instinctive and almost 
oppressive solicitude. In you, and others like 
you, is hound up the germ of that influence 
which will shortly diffuse itself as a universal 
element through society. While you are wait¬ 
ing a little before you step into those places of 
trust for which your education prepares you, 
and which death, by the removal of those 
who now occupy them, will soon have pre¬ 
pared for you, I feel that the task of addres¬ 
sing you involves no common responsibility. 
I should be treacherous, not only to your own 
interests, but to the claims of society and of 
God, if I were to waste this hour in dreamy 
and profitless speculations. I would, at least, 
speak to you words of truth and soberness; 
and if I shall succeed in saying any thing 
that shall prepare you the better to meet any 
danger to which you are exposed, or any duty 
that you may have to perform, I shall con¬ 
gratulate myself that I have not spoken to 


5 


you in vain. The few hints which I purpose 
to address to you, will have respect to the re¬ 
lations OF THE PRESENT TO THE PAST. 

Most men have hut little knowledge and 
little thought concerning the process by which 
their own characters are formed. If they give 
the subject any reflection, they think only of 
those palpable influences which, like the sur¬ 
rounding atmosphere, are pressing immediate¬ 
ly upon them. And the same remark is ap¬ 
plicable, at least in a degree, to the estimate 
which they form of the characters of each 
other. The biographer feels ready to lay aside 
his pen, when he has told what his subject 
was, and what he did, without attempting to 
search for any formative agency beyond the 
circle of his domestic relations. The chroni¬ 
cler of events on a larger scale — the historian 
of some great enterprize or some illustrious 
era, has not unfrequently played the same 
superficial part toward his readers: he has 
shown them the stream without carrying 
them back to its source;—has given them 
a string of facts — as if taken from a diary — 
without developing any great principle either 
of harmony or of solution. The reflecting and 


6 


inquisitive will never be satisfied with this; 
nor should they he. They ask of the histori¬ 
an, not merely a register of the events of the 
period of which he professes to treat, hut the 
reasons of these events as connected with 
some previous state of things. What sort of 
a history of the downfall of the Roman Em¬ 
pire would that he, which should consist 
merely in a detail of the incursions, and rava¬ 
ges, and victories, by which that event was 
brought about ? Who would be satisfied with 
a history of the Reformation, which should 
overlook its connection with the events of 
preceding centuries ? Who would call that a 
history of the French Revolution, that should 
begin with ’93 ; or that a history of the Ame¬ 
rican Revolution that should reach back no 
farther than ’75 ? The truth is that each suc¬ 
cessive age is the product of ages that have 
gone before; and if this connection be disre¬ 
garded, the great ends of history are never 
reached. It was but the other day, my friends, 
that you and I began to exist; nevertheless, 
our characters, yet but imperfectly formed, are 
the result of influences which have been ope¬ 
rating for ages. This noble institution in 


7 


which your education is going forward, has 
commenced its career within the last half 
century; but the causes which produced it 
were in operation long before even a thought 
of it had existed. The fabric of our national 
independence—we may easily enough find 
out whose counsels designed it, and whose 
hands reared it, and whose blood cemented it; 
hut it will not be so easy to trace that stream 
of influence, which was hidden in the past, 
and moving onward to this mighty result, 
while America was yet the home of the savage. 
Oh, it is not the present but the past — the 
great and mighty past, that makes us what 
we are. 

But if we would suitably realize our obli¬ 
gations to the past, we must analyze more 
closely the influence by which it operates to 
form our character and destiny. This influ¬ 
ence we shall find is twofold — consisting 
partly of those monuments of the intellect of 
other days, that are visible and palpable, and 
partly of those institutions, usages, modes of 
thought, which have come down to us as a 
traditionary legacy. 


8 


Plant yourself in almost any department of 
the wide empire of thought, and a host of 
teachers will issue forth from the past, to whom 
you will do well to give heed. Brighter geni* 
uses have never shed their lustre upon the 
world, than some whose efforts have descend¬ 
ed to us through the long line of twenty cen¬ 
turies. In several departments, the most splen¬ 
did models are to be referred to a period so 
remote, that it is not easy to define it; and 
even in those departments in which later gene¬ 
rations have worked out the greater discove¬ 
ries, we shall often find that the minds of the 
ancients were awake, and were assailing with 
great energy the barrier between the known 
and the unknown; and that these efforts, 
though they might have seemed at the time 
abortive, were nevertheless essential to the 
attainment of the end. It is curious to notice 
the various steps in the process of discovery 
and improvement—do trace the stream from 
its source in some vague conjecture in the 
brain of an ancient philosopher, till it finally 
empties into the broad sea of well ascertained 
truth. The world, no doubt, often mistakes in 
measuring out its gratitude to its intellectual 


9 


benefactors. The fortunate spirit who strikes 
upon some noble discovery, has his name glo¬ 
riously enshrined, and perhaps the world in all 
future generations will do it homage; but the 
great minds which, during successive centu¬ 
ries, have been accumulating the materials 
from which the discovery is made, are lost in 
the brighter light of the more successful, but 
possibly not more gifted or deserving labourer. 
We talk proudly of the discoveries of one or 
two of our countrymen in respect to the appli¬ 
cation of steam—and far be it from me to say 
that they are praised beyond their deserts; but 
we are not to forget that they inherited the 
results of much laborious research, and that 
they worked by the condensed light of the 
two preceding centuries. The same is true of 
all great discoveries in science—those whose 
names are finally connected with them, have 
had teachers fiom the ages that are past; — 
teachers not unfrequently, who have conducted 
them to the very verge of discovery, and left 
them with little else to do, than to walk into 
the temple whose gates have been thrown 
open to them. Those teachers are for us as 

well as for them; and we shall be unjust to 

2 


10 


ourselves, if, instead of tracing the progress of 
thought from generation to generation, and 
marking the contributions which each has 
made, either to particular branches of science 
or to the common cause of human knowledge, 
we indolently repose in the results of previous 
labours, as they happen to be developed in 
the accidental discoveries of a single mind, or 
in the general illumination of the age to 
which we belong. 

Who shall compute the number of illustri¬ 
ous minds in connection with almost every 
department of learning, as they shine out on 
the records of the past? Enter the temple 
of literature, of science, of philosophy, and 
crowds of the mighty dead are speaking to 
you through the monuments they have left 
behind them. Would you linger in the re¬ 
gions of poetry, and court the inspiration of 
the muses ? A thousand spirits, accustomed 
to soar on golden pinions, come forth from the 
past, and bid you welcome to the bright trea¬ 
sures which it has been the work of their lives 
to produce. Homer and Hesiod, Virgil and 
Horace, Dante and Tasso, Racine and Cor¬ 
neille, Milton and Shakspeare, Herder and 


11 


Schiller, stand forth the glorious representa¬ 
tives of a glorious host that no man can num¬ 
ber. Would you enter the field of historic 
research ? Here again, Thucydides, and Sal¬ 
lust, and Machiavelli, and Vertot, and Robert¬ 
son, and Muller, and multitudes of kindred 
minds, are offering themselves to you as guides 
at every corner. Would you range through 
the dominions of science and philosophy ? 
You walk in the light of Archimedes, and 
Euclid, and Aristotle, of Newton, and Leib- 
netz, and Bacon, and Locke, each represent¬ 
ing a constellation, and the several constella¬ 
tions forming a vast galaxy. And you may 
subdivide these several branches of knowledge 
as often as you will, and still there is scarcely 
any department, however limited, in which 
helps—noble helps from the past—are not 
within your reach. 

Nor is it otherwise in respect to the arts. 
In most of them there are glorious specimens 
remaining, to indicate the spirit of the ages 
which they represent. If you get far back 
into antiquity, you will indeed search in vain 
even the records of tradition, for the names of 
the individuals whose productions you admire; 


12 


and in some instances you cannot so much as 
identify the age to which they belong; but, 
on one point, they tell *their own story — they 
testify that they were designed and formed by 
the power of genius. In general these monu¬ 
ments are found scattered only here and there 
over the wide field of ancient civilization, 
especially on the sites of those cities which 
successively, in a great measure, governed the 
world. But, within the last century, you are 
aware that a portion of two Roman cities that 
were buried in the earth nearly two thousand 
years ago, have been brought up from their 
graves, and made to stand before the world the 
unimpeachable witnesses of antiquity. Here 
you see the productions of ancient art, and 
nothing else: the pavements of the streets, 
the furniture of the dwellings, the pictures on 
the walls — every thing that meets your eye, 
tells of the genius, the taste, the habits of the 
Roman people. But though these disinterred 
cities furnish, in some respects, the richest 
field of ancient relics of which we have any 
knowledge, and though they shed light on 
various usages of society, that we shall seek 
in vain from any other source, yet they do not. 


13 


by any means, include the noblest monuments 
even of Roman art, that have come down to 
us. Who does not know that in most of the 
artes liberales there are ancient specimens re¬ 
maining, to which the world, by common 
consent, awards the honour of being the most 
perfect models ? If you will see architecture 
in its most stupendous and imposing forms, 
you must go to Egypt, and view her pyramids, 
piercing the clouds in awful grandeur, and 
proof against every thing but the shocks of 
the last day: if in its most graceful and ele¬ 
gant forms, you must go to Greece, and see her 
temples of Minerva and Theseus, — to Rome, 
and look at her Colliseum and Pantheon, and 
innumerable other magnificent edifices — most 
of them indeed, laid low by the hand of bar¬ 
barism or of time, but yet glorious even in 
their ruins. So too, if you will find the noblest 
specimens of sculpture—marble breathing and 
glowing through the power of the chisel—you 
must not stop short of the splendid Laocoon, 
the Apollo Belvidere, the Venus de Medici, 
the Hercules Farnese, the Dying Gladiator, 
the statue of Pallas — all dating back to an 
obscure antiquity. Need I say that the finest 


14 


productions of the pencil also, belong to a 
past age, and are associated with the names 
of Michael Angelo, Correggio, Raphael, Titian, 
and Vandyke; to say nothing of the illustri¬ 
ous Grecian masters, who contributed not a 
little to illuminate the period in which they 
lived: these were all princes in the art; and 
their empire, for aught that appears, may 
reach down to the end of time. There are 
some arts, particularly printing, carried to a 
higher perfection now, both in respect to 
facility and beauty of execution, than in any 
preceding age ; and yet we occasionally meet 
with an old hook, bearing the imprint of 1600, 
which, in respect to all that renders it legible 
and durable, would carry off the prize from 
the best wrought productions of our modern 
press. 

But there is no other department in regard 
to which we are so much debtors to the past, 
as that of religion. Far hack we see what 
could he effected by the strugglings of the 
greatest minds on this subject, independently of 
revelation. What else do Plato, and Socrates, 
and Cicero teach us by their confused and 
often contradictory speculations concerning 


15 


the summum bonum and a future existence, than 
that man needs a higher guide on these sub¬ 
jects than the highest human reason; and 
that therefore it is worthy of the Infinite to 
meet this great moral exigency of his creature 
by a miraculous interposition ? This exigen¬ 
cy He has met in the richest — infinitely the 
richest treasure of the past — the Bible. Here 
is the record of a succession of divine revela¬ 
tions, extending through a period of more than 
four thousand years: here is history the most 
ancient, prophecies the most unquestionable, 
eloquence the most glowing, poetry the most 
sublime, morality the most perfect, discoveries 
of the divine character and will, and of man’s 
duty and destiny, glorious beyond any thing 
that ever came within the range of human 
thought. Here is the light of the world,— 
the remedy for our moral diseases, — the great 
peace-maker between earth and Heaven. 
We look upon this book with reverence and 
gratitude as God’s best gift to man; and we 
have no hopes of the final regeneration of the 
world that do not connect themselves with it. 
Nor is the Bible the only sacred legacy that 
the past has bequeathed to us. There are the 


16 


writings of the great and good who immedi¬ 
ately succeeded the purest age of Christiani¬ 
ty. There are the writings of the Reformers, 
who saw with wonderful clearness, especially 
considering that they were horn and trained 
in the dark. There are the writings of the old 
Protestant divines of the seventeenth century, 
both in Great Britain and on the continent, 
many of which are so full of spirit and power, 
that they would seem almost to have monopo¬ 
lized the vigor of their age. Nor has any 
generation since that period, been lacking in 
contributions to the cause of theological learn¬ 
ing. All that uninspired men have done to 
purpose, has been to vindicate the authority, 
to illustrate the truths, and enforce the precepts 
of the Bible ; but the amount of service which 
they have rendered in these different ways, it 
is not easy adequately to estimate. 

But our obligation to the past appears not 
merely from the fact that it has produced so 
much that is valuable, hut that so many of its 
productions have been preserved and trans¬ 
mitted to us. Much, indeed, has been irre¬ 
coverably lost: and could we expect it to be 
otherwise, when we remember that the world 


17 


has always been the theatre of national revo¬ 
lutions and convulsions, and that many things 
must necessarily fall a prey to all consuming 
time? Where are now the earliest libraries 
of which history has given us any account — 
the libraries of Pisistratus, and Euclid, and 
Euripides, and Aristotle ? Where is that most 
magnificent library of antiquity, founded by 
the Ptolemies at Alexandria, which, accord¬ 
ing to Aulus Gellius, contained no less than 
seven hundred thousand volumes ? Where is 
the library of Pollio and of A ugustus—where 
the libraries on the Roman Capitol, in the 
temple of Peace, and in the palace of Tibe¬ 
rius, into which were gathered most of the 
literary treasures of antiquity ? Barbarism 
has given them to the winds or the flames, 
centuries and centuries ago. And of the an¬ 
cient works of art too, much the greater por¬ 
tion have passed away, leaving no trace of 
their existence. Nevertheless we have reason 
to believe that the most important contribu¬ 
tions which the past has made, especially to 
the stock of science and learning, still remain; 
and that that good Providence which ordained 

their existence, also ordained their perpetuity. 

3 


18 


There are extant some of the writings of 
nearly all the most illustrious of the ancients, 
whose names have been transmitted to us; 
and this seems the more worthy of notice, as 
in those early days there was no way of mul¬ 
tiplying copies except by the pen. Every one 
knows what service the monks rendered to 
the cause of learning during the middle ages, 
not only by preserving in their cloisters these 
relics of antiquity, amidst the reign of an 
almost unqualified barbarism, but also by de¬ 
voting their lives to the labour of transcribing, 
and thus increasing the number of copies 
many fold. At the revival of letters in Italy, 
in which the family of the Medici bore so dis¬ 
tinguished a part, there were learned men sent, 
through the munificence of certain branches 
of that family, into various parts of the East, 
to gather up, so far as they could, all the 
ancient manuscripts that were then extant; 
and they returned richly laden with these 
treasures of the past, which were henceforth 
placed in a situation to shed more light upon 
the world. It was, however, chiefly the 
discovery of the art of printing that has em¬ 
balmed the works of the ancients; or rather 


19 


that has given a sort of Omnipresence to that 
which had proved itself immortal before. By 
this means, knowledge of every kind has ac¬ 
quired wings; and the mighty spirits of the 
past, instead of dwelling here and there in 
the library of a prince, may become the in¬ 
mates of every dwelling. 

Passing by the history of the preservation 
of the monuments of art, so far as they have 
been preserved, let me direct your attention 
for a moment to the transmission to us, in 
their purity, of the original records of our 
religion. I say, in their purity — not that I 
suppose there has been any miraculous inter¬ 
position to prevent any corruption, even the 
slightest, of the original text; — for every 
scholar knows that there is, to some extent, a 
diversity of readings in different copies; but 
every scholar knows also that this diversity 
relates to unessential things, and does not 
affect a single important fact or doctrine re¬ 
vealed in the Scriptures. It was the purpose 
of Him who gave this revelation to the world, 
that it should reach through all time, as well 
as to the ends of the earth; and this purpose 
of course secures the event. Accordingly we 


20 


find that this most ancient, and for many ages 
cumulative, record, has been preserved from 
its first beginning by the hand of Moses, to 
the present hour. So completely has it been 
identified with the whole economy, both of 
the Jewish and Christian dispensations, that 
its preservation has been a matter of course ; 
and so constantly has it been appealed to by 
the Jewish and the Christian church, and by 
different sects in each, in their various contro¬ 
versies, that it has been utterly impossible that 
it should undergo any material corruption. 
The same wisdom and goodness that gave 
this hook to the world, provided in the ar¬ 
rangements of Providence, for its transmission 
in substantial purity through all time. 

What say you now, my friends, of our obli¬ 
gations to the past, in consideration merely of 
those great works which the past has produced 
and preserved for us ? Do you not regard it 
a privilege to be brought in contact with the 
illustrious minds of your own day ? Are there 
not men now living, for the privilege of con¬ 
versing with whom, you would scarcely think 
a voyage across the ocean an extravagant 
price ? But perhaps you have not considered 


21 


that the past has put it within your power to 
hold communion with as great or even greater 
minds than these, without crossing the thres¬ 
hold of your own dwelling. Are the walls of 
your study lined with a rich and well chosen 
library ? Then are you living in glorious com¬ 
pany. You have around you Demosthenes 
and Xenophon, Tully and Livy, Newton and 
Bacon, Butler and Lardner, Edwards and Hall, 
and you may converse with any or all of them 
at your pleasure. True indeed you see not 
the philosopher or the orator in his robes, and 
there is no voice to break upon your outward 
ear; hut all that was visible and audible of 
the man belonged to his inferior nature : that 
which pertains to immortality and allies to 
divinity—the working of the thoughts — the 
movement of the soul, lies yonder within the 
covers of a hook. And there you may approach 
him without being embarrassed by his sensible 
presence. You may listen to the thunder of 
his eloquence; you may catch the fire of his 
spirit; you may hear him in the Lyceum or 
the Senate House — in short you may, to all 
practical purposes, hold communion with him 
as truly as if the whole man, even to the flesh 


22 


and blood, actually stood before you. And it 
is not a single great spirit, but multitudes 
scattered through more than a hundred lus¬ 
trums, with whom you may always have the 
privilege of intercourse. Imagine for a mo¬ 
ment that no such privilege had been yours — 
imagine that all the works of literature, and 
science, and philosophy, and theology, and 
art, which have come down to us, were blot¬ 
ted out, and that our knowledge of the past 
depended entirely on uncertain tradition — 
where, I ask, would be our apparatus for intel¬ 
lectual culture ? There are some men who 
profess to think lightly of books; but where 
is he who would be willing to dispense with 
this medium of acquiring knowledge ? What 
would be the character of the next genera¬ 
tion, •— what the prospects of all coming pos¬ 
terity, if the past, speaking as she now does, 
through the great works that she has produced 
and preserved, should henceforth become 
dumb forever ? 

La biblioteca e’l nutrimento dell’ anima. 

But there is an influence exerted upon us 
not less real or powerful, but more difficult to 
analyze, from the unrecorded thoughts and 


23 


feelings of the past. How much is there con¬ 
nected with civil government, with the usages 
and habits, nay, the very organization, of so¬ 
ciety, which comes not directly within the 
cognizance of the senses ! When we speak 
of a national revolution, or of a system of 
civil polity, or of the dominion of public sen¬ 
timent, we speak of that which belongs pri¬ 
marily to the intellectual and moral, however 
its effects may extend to the material. There 
is something here that you do not find in 
books, or towers, or any of the productions of 
science or art: you cannot lay your hand upon 
it, and yet you feel that it works with mighty 
energy. Now this invisible, intangible thing— 
this that constitutes the indwelling power of 
human society—-this incessant working of 
the mind in the great realities of life, has, 
from the beginning, been rolling down the 
tract of time with an ever accumulating 
force. One type of society or one form of 
government in one age, has given place to 
another in the next; but the influence which 
effects the revolution has by no means ex¬ 
pended itself when the revolution has taken 


24 


place: it works for itself some new channel, 
and keeps flowing down with complicated 
and mysterious effect from generation to gene¬ 
ration. And let it he remembered that that 
which is visible and palpable, and that which 
is invisible and impalpable, reciprocally ope¬ 
rate upon each other. The institutions of an 
age do much to give complexion to its intel¬ 
lectual productions; while those productions 
in turn may essentially mould the institutions 
of a series of ages. The writings of the Re¬ 
formers, for instance, never could have been 
what they were at any other period; the 
mighty movements of society in which those 
illustrious men had themselves a primary 
share, gave that high intellectual and moral 
impulse to which we are to attribute chiefly 
the wonderful superiority of their works. But 
who needs be told, on the other hand, that 
those immortal works have ever since opera¬ 
ted with prodigious effect throughout Protes¬ 
tant Christendom ? You see then that the in¬ 
fluence that bears upon us from the past, has 
not only been constantly accumulating with 
the progress of events, but consists of the com- 


25 


bined influence of the institutions of preced¬ 
ing ages, and the embodied efforts of the 
world’s greatest minds. 

It may not improbably occur to you that 
my estimate of our obligations to the past is 
too high, inasmuch as it has been, to a great 
extent, a scene of folly and crime; and if 
there have been some great minds to shed 
light upon our path, and some bright examples 
to allure to the right, much the greater num¬ 
ber have perverted their faculties to entail evil 
on posterity. It is true that the good influence 
has been exerted by a comparatively small 
number: a few bright lights have appeared 
in an age; and in some ages, if there were 
any such, no record of them remains to us. 
But that they have multiplied with the pro¬ 
gress of centuries, no one acquainted with the 
world’s history can doubt; and each one has 
made some impression on the character and 
destiny of his race. And as for those spirits 
that have been working for evil, — working to 
retard the progress of society, or shed mildew 
around the best hopes of man •—- we certainly 
cannot remember them either with gratitude 

or approbation; but there is a sense in which 
4 


their evil doings may minister — are designed 
to minister—to our improvement. Constitu¬ 
ted as we are with tendencies to the wrong, 
and with a susceptibility of being influenced 
as well by the fear of evil as the hope of good, 
who will not say that there is benevolence 
towards us, in suffering history to be strewn 
with so many characters, that point with a 
finger of warning to the issues of a wayward 
course ? Pharaoh, and Judas, and Nero, and 
Julian, and Napoleon — wherefore is it that 
Providence has lifted you to such a conspicu¬ 
ous elevation in the past? Not surely that 
the world, by gazing at you, may catch that 
thirst for blood, or that spirit of impiety or 
infidelity, which constitutes your inglorious 
distinction — not that you may have opportu¬ 
nity of accomplishing by your example after 
you are dead, malignant purposes toward your 
fellow men, which your lives were too short 
to fulfil — No; but that you may stand as 
monuments of God’s displeasure against a 
career of crime—that the nations, when they 
look at you, beaten down and scathed by the 
retributive justice of Heaven, may learn to 
search for the path of right, as for hid trea- 


27 


sures. I say then, while our gratitude is due 
to the great and good spirits of other ages, 
who, in living for the benefit of their respec¬ 
tive generations, have lived to bless all the 
generations that have succeeded them, we are 
not to withhold our thanks to a gracious Pro¬ 
vidence for permitting us to he instructed and 
warned out of the record of the evils of the 
past. Incomprehensible are the designs of the 
Infinite, overruling as he does the wrath of 
man to his praise. He forms a human being, 
and endows him with noble powers, by which 
he may work himself into an angel or a fiend. 
Those powers he prostitutes to purposes of evil; 
and while he is madly trampling on human 
rights, and steeping the earth in human blood, 
he is just serving the purpose of a rod in the 
hand of the mighty Ruler of the world, to 
chastise his rebellious subjects. And after he 
has entered upon the scenes of the retributive 
and the invisible, still God keeps him on the 
earth in the record that remains of him, to 
preach to all generations concerning the mad¬ 
ness of the transgressor’s heart, and the terrors 
of his doom. 


28 


If the past were filled only with monuments 
of good, it would seem that there could he no 
danger in contemplating it; except as there is 
always danger, owing to the wayward tenden¬ 
cies of our nature, that the good may be per¬ 
verted to purposes of evil. But considering 
the mixed character of the past — that it ex¬ 
hibits at best a scene of varied imperfection, — 
and considering moreover that its influence 
for good or evil in forming our character is as 
irresistible as the light to a healthful eye, it is 
obvious that there are dangers connected with 
it, which it becomes us most scrupulously to 
avoid. These dangers are to be found on the 
right hand and on the left: either excessive 
reverence for the past, or the want of due re¬ 
gard for it, is fraught with serious evil. 

There are some minds which, either from 
constitution or habit, regard every thing old — 
no matter in what department'—with a degree 
of homage approaching idolatry. They are 
constantly calling out for the restoration of 
obsolete usages. They have an eye that 
brightens and flashes wonderfully in the dark. 
The ghost of an old institution they easily 


29 


mistake for a divinity. They sigh in secret 
that they had not lived before the flood ; and 
perhaps they sometimes dream of the luxury 
of passing a whole life in Herculaneum or 
Pompeii, and of being laid at last in a subter¬ 
ranean sepulchre, where some old Roman 
and his family mouldered twenty centuries 
ago. Now this extravagant veneration for 
antiquity, however we may smile at it as a 
foible —• a mere amabilis insania — is fruitful of 
mischief, and deserves serious reprehension. 
A moment’s reflection will show us what some 
of its evil tendencies are — tendencies as it re¬ 
spects the character of the individual who is 
the subject of it, and the general improvement 
of the race. 

It is hardly possible but that one effect of 
this principle, especially when found in con¬ 
nection with a gloomy temperament, should 
be to cherish a superstitious habit of mind. 
For, in the first place, no small part of the 
record of the past is the record of superstition. 
Religion in its purity has hitherto prevailed in 
the world but to a very limited extent; and 
where that has not prevailed, some form of su¬ 
perstition has been the substitute. What else 


so 


was the religion of the ancient Carthaginians, 
and Phoenicians, and Egyptians, and afterwards 
of the Greeks and Romans, but systems addres¬ 
sed in a great measure to the more abject 
principles of our nature — systems which, in 
proportion to the tenacity with which they 
were held, must have rendered their votaries 
superstitious? What else especially could 
have been the effect of the celebrated myste¬ 
ries, which seem to have originated in Egypt, 
and subsequently to have been adopted by 
various nations of antiquity ? And to come 
down to a later period — who is not familiar 
with the fact that Christianity herself has 
been divested for ages of her primitive robes 
of simplicity, and grace, and love, and been 
tortured into an unnatural, repulsive thing — 
monstrum horrendum , ingens — insomuch that 
she might almost dispute the palm, in re¬ 
spect to the most odious qualities, with 
Paganism herself? If then there be so much 
of this spirit pertaining to the past, is it not 
manifest that those who are prepared to devour 
antiquity, without discrimination, are in the 
way to become giants of superstition? Be¬ 
sides, the past, especially the remote past, is 


31 


dim and shadowy —• its objects are seen as if 
by twilight; and imagination easily conjures 
up things that are not, and distorts things that 
are. There is more or less of superstition, 
even among Protestant Christians, at this day; 
but if I mistake not, you will almost always 
find that it is associated with an undue rever¬ 
ence for antiquity. You will find that the 
men who evince most of this spirit, cannot 
breathe freely unless they fancy that they are 
breathing the atmosphere of another age; 
and woe be to him, in their estimation, who 
asks any better reason for believing a dogma, 
than that some veteran in quibbling, during 
the glorious period of the dark ages, happened 
to write a paragraph in its defence. 

Closely allied to the superstitious tenden¬ 
cies of an idolatry of the past, are the ten¬ 
dencies to mysticism — indeed the latter is 
scarcely more than a modification of the 
former. The mysticism of the ancients cer¬ 
tainly forms a curious subject of inquiry, whe¬ 
ther we consider it in respect to its nature, its 
origin, or the various forms under which it has 
existed. What mysticism was in the early 
ages, or what it is now, I will not venture to 


32 


say; but this much I may say — that it is 
about equally allied to the poetical, and the 
philosophical, and the theological, and some¬ 
what more nearly to the unintelligible than to 
either. Its votaries will have it that it is a 
sort of ladder between earth and Heaven, — 
a key to unlock the inner sanctuary of the 
invisible and spiritual,—-a revealer of the 
unreal character of material substances; 
whereas Truth inscribes upon it, “ The dream 
of dreams—the everlasting antagonist of com¬ 
mon sense.” Whatever the mysticism of 
the ancients was, the mysticism of our day 
is marvellously like it; and notwithstanding 
these strange doctrines have been recently 
ushered forth with all the parade of new dis¬ 
coveries, as if they had been brought fresh 
from the depository of unrevealed truth, — we 
find on examination that their pretended au¬ 
thors are either downright plagiarists from an¬ 
tiquity, or else they have so far succeeded in 
throwing themselves back into the mental 
attitudes of Plato, that his thoughts have 
spontaneously sprung up in their minds; and 
in either case they have engrafted them on 
the Heaven-produced stock of Christianity. 


33 


I do not complain of men for not being satis- • 
fied to remain forever on the surface of things, 
or for endeavouring to make themselves at 
home in any part of the vast territory that lies 
within the legitimate boundaries of human 
knowledge. I am well aware that in the 
province, especially of philosophic research, 
there must be much patient groping in the 
dark — much vigorous struggling with the 
untrue and the uncertain, before the light of 
discovery begins to dawn — especially before 
the truth stands forth in acknowledged cer¬ 
tainty. But in matters of religion, where God 
himself has condescended to become the infal¬ 
lible teacher, we may safely conclude that he 
has revealed to us truth commensurate with 
our faculty of comprehension; and to attempt 
to travel off by any of the lights which phi¬ 
losophy affords, into regions that lie beyond 
those which have been illumined by revela¬ 
tion, w'ere nothing less than an impious re¬ 
flection upon God’s wisdom and goodness. If 
I have owned Jesus as a divine teacher, it is 
with an ill grace that I attempt to bring in 
Plato to share with him the chair of inspira¬ 
tion; as if the brightness of the sun would 
5 


34 


become more radiant by a return of the dark¬ 
ness which his beams were designed to dispel. 
Let philosophy keep her proper place, and she 
shall have the veneration of all of us; but let 
her dress herself up in a mysterious livery; — 
let her attempt to force the barrier on which the 
finger of God hath written —“ Thou shalt come 
no furtherlet her put the wild workings of 
her ignorance into unintelligible language and 
call it oracular — in short, let her transform 
herself into a dreaming and ignoble mysti¬ 
cism — asinus portans mysteria — and the sooner 
we can banish her from the world, the better. 
The way of her votaries, like “ the way of the 
wicked, is darkness, and they know not at 
what they stumble.” 

And this leads me to say that an undis¬ 
tinguishing reverence for the past is the fruit¬ 
ful parent of errour. We have approached very 
nearly to this thought in what we have just 
said of mysticism; and yet that rather brings 
us into the region of mists and shadows, 
than of positive and well defined errour. But 
who does not know that a large portion of the 
world’s history consists in a history of the 
world’s errours — errours too not unfrequently 


35 


of momentous import, and connected with 
the highest interests of man ? That must he 
a singularly inventive mind, that can conceive 
at this day of any form of errour, whose proto¬ 
type may not he found by a recurrence to an¬ 
tiquity. Our age, as every one knows, has 
run wild on various questions connected with 
theology and morals; hut it is only the re¬ 
kindling of the rush-lights of other days: the 
errourists of the present are sitting at the feet 
of the errourists of the past. The prediction 
of the near approach of the destruction of the 
world, is nothing better than an old dream 
that seems to have come round in a sort of 
cycle. And even the wretched delusion of 
Mormonism, at which we may not laugh just 
now, because we have to think of it in con¬ 
nection with the impostor’s horrible death — 
even Mormonism is substantially nothing else 
than the resurrection of a thing which has 
before often plagued the world. I say then, 
the experience of the present age shows, that 
there is danger that exploded errours will 
revive, and be cherished, and gain an exten¬ 
sive ascendancy, under the influence of an 
undue regard for antiquity. 


36 


Still another effect of this infirmity,—if 
we may call it by so mild a name —* is, that 
it cramps the faculties, and prevents the mind 
from attaining to its legitimate expansion. 
The faculties of the mind as well as the body, 
improve by well directed exercise; and men 
work intellectually as well as corporeally, to 
the best advantage, by the light. There is 
indeed light — much light, shining on almost 
every subject, from the past; but those who 
live so exclusively in other ages—the ma¬ 
niacs in respect to antiquity— are almost sure 
to choose the darkness rather than the light — 
at least they never seem satisfied unless there 
is a dense mist going up around them; and 
the consequence is, that though some of their 
faculties may he intensely exercised, yet there 
is nothing to secure an harmonious and com¬ 
plete intellectual development. Especially is 
there an influence exerted unfavourable to the 
mind’s independence — a quality essential to 
all true greatness. The mind was made to be 
free; and if it is kept in bondage to any thing, 
it can never fulfil its allotted destiny. And the 
calamity is not the less, but the greater, be¬ 
cause it voluntarily bows to the yoke; for that 


37 


which is voluntarily taken, is most likely to 
he pertinaciously retained. But the mind 
that is under the influence of which I am 
speaking, is literally enslaved to the past: it 
regards the decisions of the past, even where 
it is the least competent, as infallible: it has 
more reverence for a voice coming up from 
the depths of an obscure antiquity, than it 
would have for a voice coming down from the 
throne of the Omniscient. Of course such a 
mind can hardly be said to think its own 
thoughts. Its highest efforts are made, in 
endeavouring to force itself into the same 
space that has been occupied by other minds. 
It is a stranger to the luxury of untrammelled 
investigation. It never stretches its wings hut 
to fly backward. It deems it a sort of profa¬ 
nation to move, except in a beaten track. It 
may revel; hut its revels are like those of the 
enchained maniac *— there is no freedom here; 
the glorious native aspirations of the spirit are 
held in check, and the eternal past would 
seem a brighter inheritance than the eternal 
future. 

If such he the effect produced by extreme 
devotion to the past on the characters of indi- 


38 


viduals, it is easy to see what must be its 
bearing on the general interests of mankind — 
the great cause of human improvement. 
Each individual is to he viewed, not as an 
insulated being, hut as a member of society— 
as sustaining relations to his neighborhood, 
his country, the world; and these relations 
constitute a channel through which his influ¬ 
ence is forever circulating. It follows then, 
that all the superstition, and mysticism, and 
errour, and intellectual servility and dwarfish¬ 
ness, that result from this habit of mind, con¬ 
stitute a part not only of the material out of 
which the history of the race is formed, hut 
also of the influence by which the destiny of 
the race is controlled. I will advert here only 
to the influence that is exerted adverse to the 
natural progress of society. If the mind is 
chained to the past, society can never ad¬ 
vance ; and though we know that it does ad¬ 
vance — must advance, yet it is only because 
the right spirit is strong enough to overcome 
the resistance of the wrong — because the 
ancients living in the person of the moderns, 
are too weak a host to cause either the sun or 
the moon in the firmament of intellect to 


39 


stand still: and yet all the influence that they 
do exert, is in the spirit of a quarrel with the 
true genius of improvement. Other ages have 
had to encounter this hostile element as well 
as our own; hut happily there have always 
been some independent minds, that the spirit 
of the darkest age could not trammel — some 
who were always upon the watch-tower, to 
catch the first glimpse of whatever object 
might appear above the horizon of human 
knowledge. Had Galileo, and Kepler, and 
Newton, been contented with what the an¬ 
cients could tell them, where would have 
been those splendid astronomical discoveries, 
which have brought us in contact with the 
distant heavens, and scattered the mist from 
an immense territory in Jehovah’s dominions ? 
Had Bacon been satisfied with the legacy that 
had come down to his generation from Aris¬ 
totle, who should have been hailed as the 
deliverer from that sea of perplexity in which 
the Grecian philosopher had for ages kept the 
world ? Had Franklin been willing to repose 
in what he could find in the books, and called 
every improvement an innovation, and every 
innovation a sin, what assurance have we 


40 


that the true doctrine of electricity had been 
understood to this day ? Had Watt, and Fitch, 
and Fulton, been among the worshippers of 
the past, who should have taught us how to 
traverse earth and ocean by the power of 
steam — who should have suggested the way 
for bringing Jerusalem and Constantinople 
into our neighborhood ? I know indeed, that 
if these giant minds had not made the 
discoveries which have immortalized them, 
others doubtless would have performed the 
work, and gained the glory; hut if the dis¬ 
position to repose in the past had universally 
prevailed, then these discoveries had not been 
made — then indeed the world would never 
have advanced a step in the career of im¬ 
provement. I repeat—this extravagant reve¬ 
rence for the past is an evil genius: it would 
bring every thing connected with society to a 
pause — at least, the only progress which it 
would admit, would be the progress of each 
successive generation, by precisely the same 
path, to the grave. 

But if excessive veneration for the past be 
an errour, an utter disregard for it is also a# 
errour; and the practical workings of the latter 


41 


are no less to be deprecated than those of the 
former. You may find the indications of this 
spirit in almost every department of human 
action: on every side you meet those who, 
practically at least, brand the wisdom of the 
past as folly; concerning whom it may be 
said, in the language of Ovid : 

Est quoque cunctarum novitas carissima rerum. 

Look, for instance, into the department of edu¬ 
cation^—-particularly that branch of it that 
relates to intellectual culture; and you will 
find that there are not wanting those who 
proscribe the ancient classics—who maintain 
not merely that they should not be read except 
upon the eclectic principle, but that they 
should not be read upon any principle what¬ 
ever ; notwithstanding some of them embody 
the brightest effusions of cultivated intellect 
that the world can boast. Our own country, 
yet in the greenness of her youth, can boast 
of no works of art that can be called ancient, 
unless indeed it be certain obscure ruins, 
which would seem to point back to some re¬ 
mote and undefined period of civilization. 
But, would you think it ? — even our monu¬ 
ments of antiquity — the few remaining edi- 
6 


42 


fices that our fathers built, are counted for the 
most part as nothing worth; and the eye that 
lingers upon them, has glorious visions of new 
timber and fresh paint taking the place of the 
moss-grown piles of stone. I remember a fine 
old specimen of American architecture, some 
five and twenty years ago, in a church — if I 
mistake not, the oldest church then in New- 
England. It stood on an open common, where 
the cattle were welcome to roam; and its site 
was not needed or desired for any other pur¬ 
pose. Its construction was so peculiar, that 
even an architect of the present day might be 
at a loss for terms in which to describe it: suf¬ 
fice it to say, it was a specimen of the style 
of building that had nearly had its day a cen¬ 
tury and a half ago. Instead of being torn 
down, I would have had it decently fenced in, 
and kept for posterity to look at, with a view 
to inspire gratitude and veneration toward the 
memory of their fathers; and I would have 
spared it the rather, as it had been associated, 
for nearly half a century, with one of' the 
brightest lights of the American pulpit.* But 


* Rev. Dr. Lathrop of West-Springfield. 



43 


my worthy parishioners, (for it was in my own 
parish that it stood,) looked at it only as a 
huge pile of timber that could he appropriated 
profitably to another purpose ; and down came 
the old structure, occasioning, so far as I could 
perceive, no other feeling in the neighborhood, 
than that of joy that an unsightly object had 
been removed out of the way. And this, in¬ 
stead of marking any peculiarity of the peo¬ 
ple immediately concerned, was, if I mistake 
not, a fair specimen of the taste of a large 
part of our population. Does not the same 
disposition discover itself in respect to the 
high concerns of civil society ? Theories of 
government, involving much that is visionary 
and startling, are not only proposed but urged 
with the utmost confidence, in place of those 
which are the product of the combined wis¬ 
dom of ages. The mob have discovered that 
they have rights peculiar to themselves, espe¬ 
cially the right of riding rough-shod over the 
law; and there has come up a new and 
anomalous judge, whose name may not here 
be spoken, whose circuit embraces an exten¬ 
sive territory, whose code is his own will, and 
whose decisions are hasty, irreversible, and 


44 


often terrific. The old theory is, that com¬ 
munities as well as individuals are hound to 
pay their debts; — but this is beginning to be 
discarded; and the doctrine of repudiation, 
convenient only to states that have no con¬ 
science, is, in more than a single instance, 
taking its place. There are those for whom 
the Bible is too old a book; who imagine that 
it may still do well enough for the vulgar, but 
that great minds must look beyond it, and 
that it were absurd to suppose that all our 
ideas of religious truth must be cast in an old 
stereotype mould, that was finished some two 
thousand years ago. There are those who are 
not satisfied with the institutions of Christi¬ 
anity as their Author left them, but would fain 
modify them in accommodation to the ad¬ 
vanced spirit of the age. There are those 
who invent new modes of giving effect to di¬ 
vine truth; who endeavour to find their way 
to the heart through the senses and imagina¬ 
tion rather than the intellect; who think that 
the quickening breath from Heaven is never 
to be looked for, but in a tempest of human 
passion. All these cases to which I have re¬ 
ferred, are illustrations of the prevailing disre- 


45 


gard to the past; and they have been recently 
of such frequent occurrence, that none of you 
will suspect me of having drawn for them 
upon imagination, or indeed scarcely received 
them on testimony. 

In order to estimate the extent of this evil, 
we will just glance at the loss which it in¬ 
volves — the loss of a great part of the benefit 
which our relation to the past is adapted to 
secure. I say a great part of the benefit — for 
there are many advantages accruing to us 
from the past, independently of our own voli¬ 
tion. There is, as we have seen, provision 
in providence for the transmission of thought 
from age to age; and even those who are 
most slow to acknowledge their obligations to 
the men of other times, are yet indebted to 
them, under Heaven, for no small part of the 
influence by which their characters are form¬ 
ed. Nevertheless, there is much good hereby 
proffered to us, of which it is impossible that 
we should avail ourselves, without suitable 
consideration. This is to be derived both from 
the wisdom and experience of the past. 

I have had occasion, in the preceding part 
of this discourse, to illustrate the value of 


46 


many of the productions of preceding ages. 
Leaving out of view the sacred scriptures, 
which is not to he compared with any other 
hook—how many noble uninspired works are 
there — works of genius and taste, of science 
and literature, of philosophy and theology, 
which are just as if they were not, by reason 
of this obstinate unwillingness to “ ask of the 
days that are past.” Admitting even that it 
were possible to find all the great thoughts of 
these ancient authors in works which are 
claimed as the productions of men of our own 
time — yet who does not see how much is 
lost— lost to curiosity — lost to intelligence — 
by not contemplating them in their original 
garb; especially by not being able to mark 
the different phases of different minds, when 
devoted to the same subject, or the progressive 
steps by which the truth may have been ulti¬ 
mately reached? To speak here of no other 
department than that of theology, and to go 
no further back than the seventeenth centu¬ 
ry— how incalculable would be the loss to 
that student who should reject the works of 
Chillingworth and Hooker, of Barrow and 
Stillingfleet, of Howe and Baxter, and a 


47 


host of illustrious authors with whom these 
were contemporary! I do not say that he 
might not be ignorant even of these great 
names, and still render good service to the 
world; but certain it is that he would be un¬ 
just toward himself, in refusing some of the 
best aids for the culture of his mind and 
heart: he would be ungrateful toward God, in 
turning away from some of the brightest lights 
which Omnipotence has ever kindled. 

But there is perhaps still greater loss from 
setting at naught the experience of the past. 
Human nature is originally the same every 
where and in all ages: the different forms 
which it assumes, arise from the diversity of 
circumstances under which it is developed. 
There are certain common laws by which its 
operations are controlled; and these laws, 
subject indeed to the modifying influences just 
adverted to, operate with as much certainty as 
the laws of attraction and repulsion in the 
material world. On this great principle of 
uniformity in the divine government, was 
founded Solomon’s declaration: — “The thing 
that hath been, shall be; and there is no new 
thing under the sun.” Hence it follows that 


48 


the experience of the past is, to a great extent, 
a revealer of the future : it furnishes an index 
pointing to the safety and glory of one course, 
and the insecurity and misery of another. It 
tells the scholar that great attainments can 
never he disconnected from great efforts, and 
that genius, independently of application, will 
ever he found a broken reed. It tells the phi¬ 
lanthropist that, if he will secure the legiti¬ 
mate objects of philanthropy, and obtain its 
rewards, he must see that his spirit does not 
act as a consuming fire upon the very interests 
which he is engaged to promote. It tells the 
patriot that virtue is the only safety of his 
country—'that ruin to the best institutions 
hangs on the footsteps of national infidelity 
and crime. It tells the Christian that, in pro¬ 
portion as the simplicity of the gospel departs, 
Christianity becomes another thing — losing 
not only her beauty but her strength; and 
that we may never expect to witness her com¬ 
plete triumph, till the last link of the chain 
that unites her to an ungodly world is broken. 
In short the experience of the past furnishes 
the best maxims for the regulation of our 
conduct in every thing; and he who turns his 


49 


eye away from this record, preferring to be 
guided altogether by the suggestions of his 
own unaided judgment, is as wise as the man 
who should refuse to do his appropriate work 
by the light of the sun, because he preferred 
to do it by the erratic glimmering that dances 
at night among the marshes. 

But that our view of the evil which we are 
contemplating may be more complete, let us 
advert, for a moment, to the source from which 
it springs, and the manner in which it ope¬ 
rates. 

It originates chiefly in an over-weening 
vanity and self-confidence. An individual 
only needs to be filled with this spirit, to break 
with the past forever. He hears a voice from 
within — a region from which, in his estima¬ 
tion, oracles proceed — bidding him abjure all 
connection with those who have gone before, 
and henceforth walk in the glorious light of 
the present—the present, especially as em¬ 
bodied in one human being, and that being 
himself. I have known some men who have 
set up for reformers — and far be it from me 
to withhold respect from those who are really 

so — whose reverence for themselves has some- 
7 


50 


times compelled me to laugh, when decency 
would have required me to he sober; who 
have forcibly reminded me of a certain cele¬ 
brated character, who is said to have never 
used the personal pronoun J, or to have heard 
his own name pronounced, without taking off 
his hat. What else have we to expect then, 
than that men of such boundless vanity, will 
be disposed to expend all their reverence on 
themselves, and will never think of the past, 
unless it be to contemn and ridicule it ? 
What else than that those who are not ready 
to yield to their conceits will be set down as 
mere laudatores temporis adi —-enemies of all 
improvement — little better than cumberers of 
the ground? What else than that one new 
thing after another will be obtruded, till the 
individuals finally sink into insignificance, 
under the accumulated pressure of their own 
absurdities ? 

And this leads me to say that this spirit, 
originating in vanity, operates in a restless, 
feverish habit, that often mounts up into the 
very phrenzy of fanaticism. It is not satisfied 
merely with sealing up the volume of the past 
from the eye of the world, nor yet with stand- 


51 


ing aloof from that volume, and even heaping 
maledictions upon it — nay, it is not always 
satisfied with its own achievements or discove¬ 
ries, though it may have pronounced upon 
them once with an air of infallible assurance; 
but it sometimes casts them aside with the 
rubbish of other ages, and then challenges the 
faith of the world to something new; and this 
in turn is soon rejected, perhaps to make way 
for some yet more startling novelty. There 
are individuals at this day, whose religious his¬ 
tory particularly, might he divided into some 
half dozen chapters, each of which would 
seem to describe a separate creed and expe¬ 
rience ; and no one can say how many more 
transformations they may undergo before death 
shall have left upon their character the endu¬ 
ring impress. Need I say that these spirits 
sometimes render themselves ridiculous, and 
sometimes even terrible, by fanaticism ? Re¬ 
sistance to their absurd dogmas is not unfre- 
quently the signal for lighting the torch of 
persecution; and if they are restrained by the 
spirit of the age from bringing forth faggots to 
eat up the flesh, yet nothing can restrain them 
from using, to malignant purpose, that “ world 


52 


of iniquity that setteth on fire the course of 
nature, and is set on fire of hell.” 

I think you will agree with me, my friends, 
upon a moment’s reflection, that both these 
evils which I have attempted to illustrate, viz: 
extreme reverence and extreme disregard to¬ 
ward the past, are exemplified in no incon¬ 
siderable degree, in the character of the pre¬ 
sent age, and especially of our own country. 
What means this attempt to bring back the 
superstitious usages of the middle ages — to 
take from the Christian rites their beautiful 
simplicity, under the pretence of rendering 
them more imposing, — if there be not abroad 
a feeling of undue reverence for the past—a 
feeling that mocks at the dictates of sober 
judgment and simple scriptural piety? And 
then, on the other hand, what means this 
flood of revolting innovations that has come 
in upon us during these latter years ? What 
means the tearing up of ancient landmarks, 
both in church and state — the reckless im¬ 
pulses by which the multitude have been 
swayed either to acts of religious plirenzy or 
political desperation — if a portion at least, of 
the present generation, have not fallen under 


53 


the influence of an utter disregard to the past ? 
If I mistake not, these are the two great errours 
which, above any other, jeopard, at this hour, 
the interests of our country . Their tendencies 
are, in some respects, the same, and they reach 
the same end by a different process. Each of 
them especially leads to uncharitableness and 
fanaticism — each of them works vigorously, 
balefully, to prevent the accomplishment of 
the great end of our institutions. Happy will 
it be for us, if the antagonism that exists be¬ 
tween them, shall so far neutralize the influ¬ 
ence of each, that they shall be prevented 
from ultimately laying the pall over our coun¬ 
try’s glory. 

If then there is so much of good and of evil 
connected with the past, and so much danger 
that the good will be refused and the evil em¬ 
braced, or that both will be treated with equal 
disregard, it is obvious that our relation to the 
generations that have preceded us, devolves 
upon us some important duties. I will only 
hint at these duties and then relieve your pa¬ 
tience. 

I say then, the first duty to which our re¬ 
lations to the past calls us, is that we study 


54 


it — study it as a record, not only of the de¬ 
velopment of human character, hut of divine 
Providence. 

Men show what they are by their works: 
the very soul is transferred to the marble, the 
canvass, the paper; and you feel that it is the 
man himself standing forth in his productions. 
In studying the Venus de Medici and the Ma¬ 
donna, what else do you, than study the genius 
of Cleomenes and Raphael ? In reading the 
Odyssey, and the JEneid, and the Paradise 
Lost, you have the mind of Homer, and Vir¬ 
gil, and Milton, laid open to you; and you 
witness the sublime workings of each, with¬ 
out the intervention of any thing, save the 
hook that you hold in your hand. And so in 
regard to the history of these great minds— 
the history of the whole past,—we are to 
study it as the record of the experience or the 
achievements of intellectual and moral beings; 
remembering that, “ as in water face answereth 
to face, so the heart of man to man” 

Allow me here to remark that, while every 
part of history is worthy of our considerate at¬ 
tention, as a record of the developments of 
human nature, there is a peculiar interest he- 


55 


longing to the study of individual character — 
especially the characters of those who have 
shone as the brightest stars of their respective 
periods. Take Cicero, for instance *— perhaps 
the noblest name of Pagan antiquity — and 
read his history as illustrated by his writings. 
Mark the process by which his wonderful 
powers were developed. Listen to his elo¬ 
quence, here gentle as the breath of the morn¬ 
ing, and there impetuous as the spirit of the 
storm. Notice his vast comprehension, inclu¬ 
ding almost every thing, not only in outline 
but in detail, which the human mind could 
reach; his searching sagacity , piercing the 
darkest designs of his enemies, and bringing 
out before all Rome the very secrets of their 
hearts; his generous disinterestedness, count¬ 
ing his own life of no value as compared with 
the interests of the republic: and in connection 
with these noble qualities, contemplate the 
defects by which his character was marked — 
the darkness in which, in the absence of reve¬ 
lation, his mind was enshrouded, in respect 
to some of the most momentous interests of 
man'—the uncertainty at best which attended 
his speculations concerning the great doctrine 


56 


of a future existence. You admire the states* 
man, the orator, the scholar; hut you pity the 
Pagan. You sit down lost in the splendours 
of genius, but satisfied that genius — the lofti¬ 
est genius, cannot penetrate the veil by which 
death hides from us the future. And who will 
not say that here are lessons worthy of being 
earnestly pondered ? Or take the character of 
our own Washington — and see how it ex¬ 
panded, in respect to all that constitutes true 
greatness, into collossal dimensions. See it 
towering above any other character of the 
age-—I had almost said of any age. See how 
magnanimity threw its grace over the tri¬ 
umphs of the conqueror, and how dignity and 
humility appeared each the more lovely, be¬ 
cause they were seen in each other’s light, 
and how the whole was crowned by a pro¬ 
found reverence for the Ruler of the world, 
and a devout recognition of His benignant 
agency. And then contemplate the services 
which he rendered, the perils which he en¬ 
countered, the laurels which he won, and re¬ 
member that his name, throughout the world, 
is but another name for greatness and good¬ 
ness ; and tell me whether there is not that in 


5 7 


the character of Washington, that renders the 
study of it a profitable exercise. And I hope 
it will not be thought an irreverent associa¬ 
tion, if I introduce here another character, 
combining infinitely greater attractions, and 
incomparably more worthy of being studied, 
than any other — I mean the Chief Messenger 
from Heaven — the Saviour of the world. All 
other characters are imperfect — this reflects, 
in every feature, the grace and beauty of the 
third Heavens. Jesus dispensed blessings at 
every step from Bethlehem to Calvary. His 
way was a thorny way, and the thorns pierced 
him continually; but so intent was he upon 
the merciful errand that brought him hither* 
that he heeded them not. He commanded 
the elements for the safety or the comfort of 
others, and they obeyed him; but never did 
he put forth his miraculous energy for himself, 
even though he had not a place where to lay 
his head. Glory hung around his cross — 
glory still hangs, and will hang forever, around 
his name. If you will, you may lay out of 
view all other characters, and spend your life 
in studying this; for here is a specimen of 

humanity—to speak of nothing beyond it — 
8 


58 


that throws all others, even the brightest, into 
darkness. 

But we are also to study the past as a record 
of divine providence; for though the only 
visible agency that we contemplate is that of 
man, yet there is an invisible hand which uses 
man merely as an instrument: the mind of 
the Infinite — the true anima mundi , is working 
through the minds of his creatures; and while 
they lay their plans, either to be accomplished 
or frustrated, He has purposes of his own which 
nothing can defeat or embarrass. It was His 
purpose that Jesus Christ should come in the 
fulness of time to be the Saviour of the world; 
and we can now see that innumerable agen¬ 
cies had been employed in preparation for that 
event, through all preceding ages. It was His 
purpose that the Reformation should occur 
under Luther and his co-adjutors ; and amidst 
all that darkness which had gone before, every 
thing, under his direction, was tending to that 
result. It was His purpose that this continent 
should be inhabited by a civilized and chris¬ 
tianized people; and we find that He worked 
for the accomplishment of this end through 
the wrath of man; that the bitterest foes of 


59 


religious liberty — the persecutors for con- 
sience sake,—while they dreamed of nothing 
but forging chains for the immortal mind, 
were sending forth men to scatter seed that 
should yield a harvest of freedom and glory. 
My friends, every other view of the past, com¬ 
pared with this, seems frigid and unimportant. 
Man’s history, disconnected from God’s provi¬ 
dence — what is it ? But when viewed as the 
development of part of an infinite plan, it 
gathers to itself an interest that transcends 
our highest estimate. The humble instru¬ 
ment retires, and the great Agent shows him¬ 
self. In the very impotence and short-sighted¬ 
ness of the one, we trace the almighty power 
and unsearchable wisdom of the other. 

But it is not merely in the contemplation and 
study of the past that our duty consists; for this 
may be a mere intellectual exercise, neither 
accompanied nor followed by suitable emotions 
nor suitable conduct. In order that this ex¬ 
ercise may subserve its legitimate purpose, it 
must be carried forward to a practical result; 
and thus the past must lend its aid to improve 
and exalt both the present and the future. 
And how is this important end to be attained ? 


60 


1 answer, by carefully discriminating be¬ 
tween the good and the evil, and using each 
for the purposes for which they were intend¬ 
ed. It has been admirably said by Livy — 
Hoc illud est praecipue in cognitione rerum 
salubre ac frugiferum, omnis te in exempli 
documenta in illustri posita monumento im 
tueri: inde tibi tuseque reipublicae; quod 
imitere, capias: inde, fcedum inceptu, foedum 
exitu, quod vites. The treasures of truth, and 
wisdom, and goodness, that have belonged to 
other ages, should enlighten our minds and 
warm our hearts. We should cherish them 
as our most valued legacy. We should incor¬ 
porate them among the elements of our insti¬ 
tutions. We should connect them with all 
our bright hopes of the future. And we have 
something to do even with the mistakes and 
errours of the past — we are to use them as 
beacon lights to warn us of danger and point 
us away from those concealed rocks, those 
terrific whirlpools, that are scattered thickly 
over the ocean that we traverse. Wo be to 
us, if, as the history of other times unrolls itself 
before us, we call evil good and good evil; for 
though names may change places, the things 


61 


which they represent, remain the same; and 
it would be a poor consolation to us, if we had 
taken into our bosom a viper, that we had 
called it a dove. 

I answer again, if we would reap the full 
advantage offered to us by the past, we must 
regard it with due veneration, but not with 
blind and implicit homage. We must act in 
the spirit of that fine sentiment of Boileau: 

La docte antiquite est toujours venerable, 

Je ne la trouve pas cependant adorable. 

We must beware of that extreme reverence 
for antiquity that is startled at the idea of pro¬ 
gress in any thing; that loathes the brightness 
of the sun and loves to walk by a glimmering 
torch-light; that would throw us back blind¬ 
fold into the ninth century and call it the 
golden age. This spirit may make its appeal 
even to our piety; but we must resist it not^ 
withstanding—must resist it as we value our 
birthright of freedom, and as we would an¬ 
swer to posterity and to God. But we must 
guard with equal caution against that reckless 
spirit which triumphs in blotting out the good 
and the useful, only because it is old, and in 
bringing in the absurd and the profitless, be- 


62 


cause it may seem to be new; — which would 
palm upon us, in religion, or philosophy, or 
politics, visionary theories —&grisomniavana — 
and require our assent to them with as much 
confidence as if they had come to us in the 
supernatural breathings of inspiration. The 
spirit of reformation in a world like ours is a 
noble spirit; and every true friend of his race 
will say — “ Let God speed its progress till it 
shall have done its perfect work.” But let it 
degenerate into the mere love of change — 
the feverish desire for excitement, — and its 
element will be the tempest, and its track will 
be marked by the wrecks of the bright and the 
lovely. We should bear in mind that evils, 
and sometimes great evils, must, for a time, be 
tolerated — not because we would not gladly 
be free from them, but because they make 
part of an existing state of things, that is 
preferable to any other that can immediately 
be reached; and because the effort to effect a 
violent cure, would not only, in all probability, 
prove abortive, but would put in jeopardy 
other and greater interests with which it 
would be madness to trifle. It is alike true 
in the political, the moral and the spiritual 


63 


world, that the tares and the wheat must often 
be suffered to grow together till the harvest, 
lest, in gathering out the one, we root up the 
other. Let those who incautiously project 
mighty works of reform, whether in church or 
state, open their ears to the rebukes of the past. 
Be it that you have some plan for re-modelling 
our institutions, which seems to you to promise 
immense good to our country and the world; 
and you are resolved not to rest from your la¬ 
bours, unless death call you away, till your 
bright visions of reform shall have been realized. 
Admit that the proposed change be as desira¬ 
ble as you regard it — are you certain that the 
attempt to accomplish it now, would not be 
premature, and therefore ineffectual ? Are you 
sure that the evils of which you complain are 
not essentially incident to a better system, 
than that which you propose to substitute ? 
Have you duly counted the cost of the experi¬ 
ment you are about to make ? Have you 
taken into the account that the institutions 
that you would overturn or essentially modify, 
are hedged in by strong affections, and grate¬ 
ful associations, and long established prejudi¬ 
ces ; — that there is diffused through them 


64 


the spirit, not of one generation only, but, it 
may be, of many generations; and that the 
blow beneath which they should fall, would 
vibrate to the innermost heart of the country 
or the age ? The institutions at which you 
aim, you will perhaps admit, are at least tole¬ 
rable, as they are — are you quite certain if 
you could succeed in sweeping them off, that 
instead of the bright fabric which your fancy 
has pictured, there might not rise in their 
place some unsightly thing—perhaps despo¬ 
tism— perhaps anarchy, that would stand at 
once the wonder and the curse of the world ? 
There may be cases in which it is proper 
to assail old institutions vigorously, without 
waiting to see them tumble under their own 
weight; because they may effectually hedge 
up the path of human improvement, and we 
cannot afford to see the world stand still for 
the sake of being complimented either for our 
courtesy or our prudence. But in all ordinary 
cases we are to move, if we move at all, 
against established institutions, with the ut¬ 
most thoughtfulness and caution; and we 
shall often find, by restraining our impatience 
a little in respect to existing abuses, which 


we could wish to see remedied, but to which 
the remedy cannot at once be safely applied, 
that we shall be saved the trouble of encoun¬ 
tering them altogether, and that Providence, 
in his high and mysterious movements, will 
soon show us the work accomplished to our 
hands. 

I have endeavoured, in the preceding train 
of remark, to bring out certain great principles 
vitally connected with the well being of socie¬ 
ty— principles that deserve to be attentively 
considered, especially by every American 
citizen, and by none more than the young 
gentlemen at whose request I stand here this 
evening. Let me then, in the close of this 
discourse, urge them, in a single word, to con¬ 
template their own obligations and responsi¬ 
bilities, in the light into which this subject 
throws them. In bringing before you your 
relation to the past, I have virtually shown 
you also your relation to the future; for what 
the past is to you now, the present will be to 
those who come after you ; and as the genera¬ 
tions that have preceded have contributed to 
make you what you are, so those that follow 

will become whatever they may be, partly 
9 


66 


through your influence. Learning, Patriotism, 
Christianity, each bends forward, and eagerly 
asks concerning the future —nay, the future 
itself sends up from its dark bosom the inquiry, 
what legacy of weal or wo, of life or death, 
the present is making ready for it? Shall 
Learning, in coming ages, light her lamp only 
in cloisters, or shall her radiance be as wide 
and bright as that of the sun ? What shall 
be the fate of these noble institutions—what 
the fate of our nation itself? The oppressors 
of other nations have looked at us with alter¬ 
nate jealousy and scorn, while they have ex- 
ultingly predicted our overthrow. D den da est 
Carthago has been heard from their lips and 
read in their acts; and they have seemed to 
be waiting with malignant impatience, to be 
summoned to the funeral of American liberty. 
Shall the future be obliged to recognize them 
as true prophets, or shall it be able to stand up 
and charge them with having lied concerning 
its destiny ? Shall the mind here continue 
free and its course onward, or shall it yet sub¬ 
missively stoop to take the chain? Shall 
Truth, and Righteousness, and Charity, joy¬ 
fully fling their bright banners to the breeze, 


67 


or retreat in dreary exile into the caves and 
dens of the earth? Shall the blood of our 
fathers, which once drenched the ground on 
which we tread, hereafter speak concerning 
the past in tones of approbation or tones of 
rebuke ? These questions, young gentlemen, 
it rests, in no small degree, with you and the 
generation to which you belor\g 5 to answer. I 
trust you will answer them in a life devoted to 
the benefit of your country ^nd the world ; so 
that those who are hereaft er to live, shall have 
occasion to say, with a far nobler meaning 
than the Latin poet eve r dreamed of — Jam 
redeunt Saturnia rp'™ n 




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